


Long Distance

by Delphicoracle-Cat (Delphicoracle_Cat)



Category: Hellboy (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphicoracle_Cat/pseuds/Delphicoracle-Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johann leaves on an international mission, leaving a lonely Abe behind at the Bureau. Of course, happiness (and sexytime) is just a phone call away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Merry Yuletide! I hope you consider this sufficiently kinky. It was a blast to write. See you after the reveal! :)

Long Distance

“This has absolutely been the worst mission I have been on since joining the Bureau. If I was not afraid of breaking something, I would be hitting my head against the nearest wall.”

  
Abe Sapien chuckled softly, running his fingertips along the spines of the perfectly-ordered books on the shelf before him, searching for a specific title. Though Johann was miles away in Perthshire, Scotland on BPRD business, his disgruntled, heavily-accented tone came in loud and clear through the communicator link.

“A haunted painting,” Johann continued to grouse, and Abe could picture him, pacing the floor of his tiny room in the Scottish inn. “Mein arsche. There is not a single trace of spectral energy within ze frame. A hoax, nothing more. Why Manning decided to send me, of all people…”

“Mr. Lumsden exerted considerable pressure on Manning and the Bureau to get an expert to fly out,” Abe gently said. “And you know spectres better than anyone at the Bureau.”

“And yet everyone at the Bureau is capable of recognizing fake hauntings. Ach, if this Mr. Lumsden fellow was not such a famous man in Europe, the Bureau would never have gotten suckered into investigating his so-called haunted painting.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve have to do something as a publicity stunt… oh, here we are.”

Abe found the book, a thick, hefty volume with a red cover; he slid it from its snug place between the other volumes and gently blew the dust away.  
Mystical Colours: A History of Haunted Paintings and Other Objets d’Art. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had to open this book. Probably not since that incident with the possessed poodle sculpture back in 1994.

“Now, what is the title of Mr. Lumsden’s painting?” Abe asked, laying the large hardcover tome down onto the nearest desk.

“A Feeling of Transience,” Johann said. “Painted by Alistor McManus, if ze signature is to be believed. I do not know art, but I know what I find ugly. If I had a head, it would be aching right now.”

It didn’t take long for Abe to locate an entry for the painting. An image of the painting itself took up half the page; it was an unsettling tableau of a perfectly-preserved Victorian woman lying dead in a coffin, the mourners around her hunched and skeletal, holding dead flowers.

He read the accompanying block of text in a few seconds. “You were correct, Johann. The painting—the real one, of course—was destroyed in a fire in 1922. According to the write-up, it was causing strange headaches and illness in anyone who laid eyes upon the female subject; she represented the artist’s deceased wife, whose spirit inhabited the painting after her death. The first and only purchaser of the painting was driven nearly mad by the sight of it, and burned his own house to the ground, effectively destroying the painting. Whatever your gentleman has in his possession, it is not the original A Feeling of Transience and is no more haunted than a throw pillow.”

“Verdammte, I knew it,” Johann muttered. Through the communicator link Abe could hear the heavy steps of his containment suit against the wooden floor; he was pacing angrily. “Und here I am, wasting my time in this small village with this pompous arseloch who is apparently only afraid of the dark.”

Abe smiled at Johann’s frustration, only because he knew the other couldn’t see him over the phone. “At least you got a trip to Scotland out of it.”

“I should have insisted that you come along with me. They gave me a room with a bed; we could have used it.”

Now Abe blushed, glancing furiously around the library as though he weren’t alone, as though anyone even could have heard Johann speaking over the line. While he and the medium had been lovers for a while now, their relationship was secret. Both men enjoyed their privacy, preferred to avoid running afoul of any Bureau regulations about fraternization, and really didn’t wish to have the entire Bureau staff speculating about the physical logistics of a sexual relationship between a fish-man and a ghost in a containment suit.

It required healthy doses of creativity, but they made it work. Both Abe and Johann were quite content, satisfied, and, dare they say it, in love.

“Next time, I will insist to Manning that you act as my consultant.”

“As long as he doesn’t ask what you wish to consult me on,” Abe cheekily said. “How soon can you leave Perthshire?”

“Despite my earlier assurances that I detected no ghostly presence, Mr. Lumsden insists that the painting is haunted. I vill have an interesting time explaining otherwise to him.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Abe said, closing the massive reference book. “Be sure to call me before you leave?”

“I will do one better,” Johann said, and for the first time there was a hint of happiness in his voice. “Und call you again tonight, before you retire for the night.”

“I can put myself to bed, Johann,” Abe chuckled.

“But I insist. I vill call you.”

“How very romantic. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Ja. I will now go see if I can convince Mr. Lumsden that his painting is entirely ghost-free. Guten nacht, Abraham.”

“Good night.”

The communicator clicked shut with a small burst of static. Abe slid the earpiece off and deposited it on the desk, gently drumming his fingers against the hard cover of the Mystical Colours book before rising with a stretch. It was late in Perthshire, but still early in New Jersey, plenty of time to waste before he could speak to Johann again. And truth be told, he was really looking forward to speak to Johann again.

***

“Blue! Hey, Blue!”

Oh, damn. Abe stopped in his tracks, about to turn down the hallway leading to his rooms. The evening had dragged on but he was finally expecting his call from Johann any moment now.  
Hellboy was beside him in three quick strides. “There you are! You’re not busy tonight, are you?”

Abe felt himself blushing; if Hellboy noticed, he didn’t comment on it. “Well, as a matter of fact…”

“Of course you’re not! Now check this out!” Hellboy said. No wonder he didn’t notice or care about Abe; he was holding a stack of DVDs in his giant red stone hand, giddy as a little kid on Christmas morning. “They just came; it’s the complete James Bond collection! I ordered it last month. How about you come over tonight, we’ll watch them?”

“All of them?” Abe asked, bewildered.

“Well, there’s only…” Hellboy’s golden eyes narrowed at the stack as he tried to count them. “.. Twenty or so. Come on! It’ll be fun.”

“Tempting, Red, but I was about to get ready for bed,” Abe said. He shifted on his feet, itching to continue his trek before Johann called. “Why don’t you ask Liz?”

“She hates James Bond. I don’t get it,” Hellboy sighed. He frowned, seemingly just registering what Abe had said. “You’re going to bed? But it’s only ten pm! What are you, geriatric?”

“Oh yes. Haven’t you noticed how I’ve lost all my hair already?”

A snort. “Well if your cup of chamomile tea gets too exciting for you, you’re welcome to join me. James Bond; all night, all the time!” He waved the massive stack of DVDs for emphasis.

“I’ll take you up on that, if needed,” Abe said. Grudgingly satisfied, Hellboy trumped down the hallway back to his room, with seconds to spare as Abe’s communicator chirped again.  
With it came a sudden little heart-skip. How odd, Abe mused. He had gone his entire life, at least the life since his awakening from suspended animation, without so much as a kiss from another person. Now that he had ended up with a lover, he found he couldn’t get enough, whether it was a tender word or an all-night marathon sex session. He blushed quietly again at the lurid thought; unfortunately, with Johann miles away, sex was not the agenda tonight.

Abe picked up the communicator earpiece he had left in his pocket, and switched it on before affixing it to his ear. “Agent Sapien here.”

“Ah, liebster,” said Johann. “Am I calling at an opportune moment?”

“Fairly opportune,” Abe said, glancing about in the deserted hallway. “Any progress with Mr. Lumsden?”

“Ach. I am tempted to take this so-called haunted painting und drop it in the nearest incinerator. That would solve the problem.”

“And give Manning several simultaneous heart attacks.”

“A risk I am willing to take,” Johann said. There was a chuckle on the line. “But enough talk about haunted paintings und Manning’s tragically hilarious death. Are you busy at the moment?”

“Not at all. Everyone else is retiring for the night and I had no plans beyond picking up a book. And speaking to you, of course.”

“Then you could do a favour for me? I will need you to go to my room for something.”

“Of course,” Abe said. “Did you need another reference tome?”

“Perhaps. Tell me when you have arrived, ja?”

Abe took a left through the halls of the Bureau; they were deserted at this hour, the long corridors eerily quiet with no agents circulating through them. Passing by a few rooms, Abe dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’m nearly there.”  
He pushed open the door to Johann’s room and flicked on the lights. It was strange to be in the medium’s room all by himself; the room was quiet and pristine as always, books and materials undisturbed. Abe smiled to himself at the sight of the perfectly smooth blue bedspread and the carefully-arranged pillows; since Abe had no bed of his own, it had fallen to Johann to request a bed for his rooms for their illicit trysts. Abe still wondered how Johann had managed to convince the Bureau that he needed the furniture.

“I’m in your room,” Abe said. “What did you need?”

“The bed. Go sit on the bed, if you please. But first make sure the door is closed and locked.”

Puzzled, Abe obeyed, latching the door behind him and crossing the room in one smooth stride, sitting on the edge of the large cherry-wood bed. “Do you need a book from the bedside table?”

“Oh, nein. Are you on the bed?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. And now…” There was a pause that somehow managed to sound positively lascivious. When Johann spoke again, it was with a distinct huskiness. “Vhat are you wearing?”

“What am I what?”

“Lie down on the bed, und tell me vhat you are wearing,” Johann said. “I have been lonely here without you, Abraham. Tell me how you miss me.”

“Oh! Well, I--” Abe stammered. “Of course I’ve been missing you.”

“Do you wish I was there right now, besides you, to touch you?”

Heat suffused Abe’s face, rushing down his chest as he quickly caught on. So Johann wanted to… Oh God. He felt his heart racing at the thought. From their past experience, it was clear Johann was the more adventurous of the two in bed (ironic, coming from the one who had no flesh-and-blood body for sex, but then again, it has been said that the mind is the most important sexual organ.) Still, it was completely surreal to hear such talk coming from the medium’s bouncy, German-accented voice.

“Oh… oh my. So this is why you insisted on calling me again at a later hour?”

“I was not lying when I said I missed you,” Johann said gently.

Damn, but he wished he could have at least had some warning. To do what, though? his brain helpfully supplied. To study first? Brush up on your loquaciousness? It’s phone sex, for goodness’ sake. Just take the plunge.

“I’ve missed you too,” Abe said. He gulped nervously and tried to sound seductive. “I’m looking forward to your return so you can… touch me.”

“Ja, as am I,” Johann murmured through the communicator link. “Are you imagining my hands on you? Touch yourself, now. Put your hands against your chest.”

Abe’s hands were shaking as he brought them up to his chest, rubbing his fingertips in quick circles against the soft skin.

“Slowly,” said Johann, as though he could see through the wireless connection. “Use your thumb, und stroke yourself slowly. Tell me how it feels.”

Abe felt his breath catch as he ran his thumb up and down, into the dip of firm muscle, twitching from the raw sensation. “It feels... it feels….” An embarrassed cough. “It feels nice.”

“Are you still wearing your shorts?”

“Yes… should I remove them?” Abe hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts, figuring the next logical step of phone sex, like regular sex, was to remove one’s clothing.

“Nein,” Johann lustfully commanded. “Keep them on for now. Are you quite hard?”

It seemed so natural for Johann to take the lead, which was fine by Abe, since he doubted he could lead such a lurid dialogue. It seemed much simpler to obey the husky orders. He drew his legs up on the bed, resting back on the blue pillows, shifting his thighs as he felt the head of his erection brushing against the neoprene material of his shorts.

“Yes, very much,” Abe answered through the communicator.

“Touch yourself. Through ze material. Rub yourself, und tell me how it feels.”

“It-it feels… oh,” Abe moaned, letting the sound speak for itself as he cupped himself, surprised at how hard and excited he already was. He let his fingertips run over the bulge in the supple material. “It feels… in-inadequate, however. I wish it was your hand instead.”

“Is it better when I am ze one touching you?”

“It’s… it’s much better, of course.”

“I wish I was there with you, right now,” Johann said. Abe could hear a rustling through the comm link, a creaking of bedsprings, and guessed that Johann had lain down on the bed in his room in that little Scottish inn. He closed his eyes, picturing his ectoplasmic lover stretched out.

“I would love to feel your body against mine,” the medium continued. “You always tremble when you are aroused, did you know that?”

Abe swallowed hard, still embarrassed, though still stroking himself through his shorts. “You’re the one who makes me feel that way.”

“Mm. If I was there now, I would hold you down on the bed, und caress you all over. You have so many sweet spots, schatzi. I would begin by tickling your gills. Do you enjoy it when I do that?”

His gills fluttered as he imagined Johann’s delicate hands on them, the ectoplasm brushing coolly against the sensitive lamellae. “Oh yes. I always enjoy it very much.”

“Touch your gills now. Do it slowly. Imagine that it is me touching you.”

Damn, but Johann was good at this. Abe kept one hand against his heated sex, raising the other to brush the delicate ridges at his throat. His mouth fell open at the contact and he panted. “Oh God.”

“Tell me how it feels,” Johann said. There was something positively rapturous in his voice, and Abe just knew he was poised next to the communicator, hanging on to every moan and hitch in breath.

“It feels nice,” Abe said. “Um, and stimulating.” What an incredibly alluring description, Sapien, he chided himself.

“Ach, I can picture you now. If I was with you—I would not even wait until I could get you alone. I would hold you up against the nearest wall und make love to you, even if we were in plain sight.”

Between stuttered breaths, Abe laughed. “What if someone saw us? What if Hellboy walked by? Or, God forbid, Manning?”

“They must look but not touch,” Johann said impishly. “So they can see how beautiful you look, as you come against me.”

Abe found his eyes closing at the mere suggestion, aroused beyond belief at the lurid visual. “I really wish I could… come against you, that is.”

“As would I...” There was another rustling sound through the connection, as though Johann was shifting about restlessly. The thought of it made Abe strangely pleased. “Do you wish to remove your shorts?”

“Please…”

“Alright, now remove them, but slowly. Do not touch yourself until I tell you so.”

His hands flew to the waistband of his shorts and he pulled them off. His freed sex was hard and flushed and it took all his will not to take himself in hand. “They’re off.”

“Excellent. Now touch yourself where you please, but do not touch your sex unless I say you can.”

It was absolute torture, but Abe obeyed, sliding his fingertips against the sensitive hollows of his hips, desperately arching into the sensation. His straining sex twitched against his pelvis, aching to be stroked again, and Abe released his tension into a long, desperate moan.

He heard, though the comm link, Johann’s answering moan. The medium sounded as wound up as Abe felt as he said, “You sound so desperate, Abraham.”

“I can’t wait for you to return...”

“Ah yes? What will you do when you see me again? Tell me.”

“I will... oh...” The heat of embarrassment mingled with the heat of arousal. Talking dirty had never been one of the prim and proper fishman’s strong points. His voice suddenly felt loud in the small room, his gasps echoing against the walls. “I’d want you to hold me. I’d like to feel your ectoplasm against me.”

“Yes, yes, very good,” Johann said breathlessly. “Und then?”

Abe dug his fingertips into the sensitive skin at the juncture of his hip, feeling his legs tense and tremble at the contact. “I would like for you to touch me. Everywhere. I like how your hands—your real hands, from your ghost form-- feel against my skin. I... I would like for you to hold me down on the bed and... and caress me.”

“I would also enjoy that very much. Now you may touch yourself, but proceed very slowly. Very gently.”

Abe slid his fingers loosely around his rigid flesh; if anything, the feather-light touch made him feel as though he would lose control even quicker. “You always were such a tease,” he muttered.

“Ja, most assuredly. Would you punish me?”

“Absolutely,” Abe gasped. He ran his hand gently against the head of his erection, slickening his fingers. “I would hold you down. Wrap my legs around you.”

“I love feeling your legs around me,” Johann said with a pleased murmur. “You have such lovely legs...”

“And then, I would...” He stopped to shudder as heat rushed from his pelvis to his chest and back; he could feel the imminent orgasm about to descend.

More restless rustling of cloth, and Johann huskily said, “Are you close, Abraham? Are you about to come?”

His lips were dry from his heaving breaths; his tongue darted out to moisten them. “Oh God, yes…”

“Then enough, stop,” the medium commanded. “Take your hand away. Now touch yourself, on your chest again.”

“You’re miles away,” Abe groaned, reluctantly removing his hands from his sex and laying his textured palms against his chest. “And still you manage to control me so well.”

“Und that is why you love me so. You are touching your chest?”

“I am... I am...” It was so difficult to keep his hands away from his inflamed sex, especially now that he was so close to climaxing. A single touch to his solar plexus made his body shudder all over and he wondered if it would be possible for him to bring himself to orgasm only from that prolonged touch.

“Do you wish to come?” Johann purred.

“Please... please...”

“Tell me that you do.”

“I... I want to come. Please...”

“Then touch yourself, Abraham.”

He didn’t need to be told twice; he wrapped his fingers around his aching sex, the heat of it burning into his palm, and stroked for all he was worth. He was too far gone to speak, instead letting his hungry, desperate gasps speak for themselves.

Johann’s voice was dark and delicious, goading him towards orgasm. “Imagine that I am there, with you right now. Imagine that it is my hand on you, caressing you, holding you close as I watch your orgasm overtake you...”

And he did; Abe could practically feel Johann’s cool ectoplasm hand instead of his own hot, trembling one, rubbing his flushed sex.

“I’m coming, I-I--”

His body stiffened and his head struck the cherry-wood headboard as he climaxed, gasping and moaning his way through it as he felt copious fluid striking his chest in warm spatters.

His long, heavy breaths seemed oddly loud, until Abe realized, as he slowly came down from the afterglow, that Johann was making his own soft sounds of pleasure through the communicator link. Not trusting his voice just yet, Abe let his head fall back again the headboard, closing his eyes contently as he worked to get his breathing under control again.

“Are you still with me, Abraham?” Johann asked. Damn, but there was a hint of humour there.

“Only just,” Abe sighed. He laid his hands against his damp abdomen and relaxed back into the pillows. “Er—so. Thank you for this. I wish I could do something for you as well.”

“Don’t worry, you will be able to amply repay me when I return.”

“Awfully confident there, Johann.”

“Only because I know you so well.”

Abe smiled. “If you’re still stuck in Perthshire tomorrow night—call me again?”

“You can be assured that I will,” Johann said. “Schöne Träume for now.”

“And to you.”

The communication link was broken with a small burst of static. Abe gently pulled the communicator from his ear and closed his eyes, sighing contently.

***

“Is that Abe?” Hellboy asked. He was trying to walk and simultaneously balance a huge bowl of popcorn, a tray of nachos and salsa, and a six-pack of beer. His first round of snacks had barely lasted through the first two of his James Bond movies, necessitating a quick trip to the kitchen.

His curiosity had been piqued by the sight of Abe slowly exiting Johann’s room, a bounce in his step. Wasn’t Johann away on a mission?

“Seems so,” Manning said, speaking through a mouthful of potato chips. His arms were laden with his own movie snacks. “I think he and Johann are building something; I’ve been hearing banging coming out of there for weeks.”

“Figures. Dorks have to stick together.”

Manning shrugged. “So which movie are we up to?”

“ _Goldfinger._ Classic. I still can’t believe you’re a James Bond fan.”

“I still can’t believe you got stuck watching these movies with _me_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hellboy said with a glare. “And stay out of my nachos.”

 


End file.
